The Sound of Chains
by Stately Demented
Summary: Matthew gets sold into slavery to Francis, a nobleman, to be his cook. Will recluse Francis and broken Matthew be able to love once again? Yaoi.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: I rewrote this and had it beta'd for a better reading experience. It's 10 times better than the original. Thanks goes out to my beta Roxanna-chan. Everyone that did read it before I advise you to read it again only because I changed and added quite a few things.

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Chapter 1

When Matthew was little, his mother always told him that love was a conquering force. That it didn't matter who you loved, it would always work out in the end. Now, he just want to bitterly laugh at their naïve past mindset.

Love was a monster. Even though he has that knowledge, it still doesn't keep him from giving into the eternal abyss that is love. He still seek it out; yearn to feel the tidal waves of emotion.

The ghost of Arthur (some might say his entire past) is in every moment he muses to myself. The pain of loving him lingers in his heart, festering like an infected wound. He is dead, but is his ghost ever going to leave him? Was he damned to be forever alone? Yes, a voice whispers subtlety in the back of his mind.

"Matthew!" His father yells, snapping him back into the milking of the knight's guard. "Boy, didn't I tell you to pay attention?!" Matthew squirmed uncomfortably from across the room. This kind of tone of voice was always a bad sign.

"Yes, father." He managed to mutter out. Matthew turned his attention back to the business his father had going on.

As time wore on, so did the feeling of normalcy. His father always did like swindling the wealthy. Even if it were the king's knights he knew his father took perverse pleasure from taking their coin. It was sick in a way.

When they continued to drone on about things not too interesting; Matthew drifted into a light sleep with darkness as his dream scape.

"How many times do I have to tell you!?" The booming voice roared. Sleep left his body, leaving an alert mind that tensed in rapt focus.

Matthew decided to stay silent, knowing all too well that speaking would not help his case.

"You ungrateful boy!" His father's meaty hands grabbed his hair. The ruff tug only grew until his scalp burned in agony. Matthew's once deadpanned face contorted to a grimaced. His father's eyes lit, and his lips curved in malicious pleasure at his display of pain. "I've been kind to you, haven't I boy? And you take this for granted?! I could always sell you as a slave." Revulsion brewed in his mind and the stale taste that sat uncomfortably at the back of his throat willed itself to go down. Matthew gave into its demand.

He looked into his cold eyes and flinched. So he was serious? Silence cascaded throughout the room. "I can't stand looking at your face! I'll sell you tonight!" He said whilst lifting the pregnant pause. The ringing in his ears stopped and a new ringing started. The sense of foreshadowing crept like an insisting whistle. He threw Matthew back onto the floor, his head hitting it with a thunk. His ears decided to once again add to the symphony.

Lifting his head, Matthew tried to speak, tried to plead his case to his father. His vocal cords would not work; he gave into the silence.

"Yes, I think that would be...sufficient punishment." He looked down at the ground refusing to meet his eyes. When did he turn into his father's doormat? Emotions intruded upon his heart. The one that stood out the most was guilt. Why couldn't he live like his mother and Arthur wanted him to? Why was he such a failure? A part of him almost felt like he deserved to be punished. Another part wanted him to join the deceased. But of course, he once again ignored everything the voices in his mind whispered to him.

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Stumbling forward, he tripped on the corner of the cart.

Several hollow eyes darted to meet his form. "Clumsy boy!" The grimy looking caretaker chided. The man took a second to take him in. Matthew started to feel nervous under his scrutinizing gaze.

"How much you selling him for?" The man's voice had the soft scraping tone of a sword grinding against whetstone.

"I'd like six gold coins, but I'd really take anything more than one." He found himself flinching. His life was only worth one measly gold coin to his father? Tears prickled at the edge of his eyes. Was it a mere child's dream to want to be loved by his only living parent? He looked into his serious face. He guessed so.

"How 'bout five? He'll make a lot of money with those feminine looks."

"You got yourself a deal." And with those words, the man handed his father the gold coins.

No, no, no, NO!

Reality caught up to him. The hallow eyes that he knew he would sport if he let his father sell him, haunted Matthew. Caught up in the moment, courage burned in his veins. He took off in the opposite direction; his heart sped and as he bypassed the few people who were out this late, he dodged and ducked at the many obstacles.

"CATCH HIM!" The slave master said. Matthew ignored him and continued forward. Out of pure desperation; when he caught sight of an alleyway he ducked into the shadows and pressed himself against the wall. He caught his breath. A few moments passed and guards trotted past his hiding spot. They stopped in front of the alleyway and scanned the area. He put his hand over his mouth to try not to make a sound.

"You see him?"

"No. I bet he ran this way."

"Snot nose brat." They ran the other way. After little time had passed, Matthew gasped for air.

After a few breaths, he heaved himself off the ground and started to briskly walk down the alley. He looked around and a red door jumped out at him. He was not all too picky at what his hiding spot was going to be. He walked closer to the door and upon closer examination he realized that the door was almost off the hinges. Was this a robbery site? He stepped inside and pulled the door closed. Glancing over the room he saw that clothes littered the floor. There were five candles, three of which had long since sputtered out. A couch was tipped upside down in the middle of the room, and a table and its drawers laid among the broken furniture. It looked as if someone was searching for something.

Suddenly, a loud pounding noise came from the room that had its door closed. He had half the mind to run. But he couldn't, the black door compelled him to see its contents. He moved closer and closer until he got to the knob. He didn't need to open the door; it opened to reveal a cloaked figure. The shadows hugged his body, almost as if he was a part of them. His beard was short, and the man's hood hid his eyes. Surprise flickered onto his face and Matthew's heart squeezed from the scare. He blanched from the intimidating posture the man had. Matthew felt as if he was invading the man's home.

"Who are you?" The deep voice grumbled from underneath his dark cloak. The man surprised him into a shocked hush. "I asked who you are." The man said while gritting his teeth. It was obvious that he didn't like not being answered.

"Matthew, sir." He wasn't one to forget his manners.

Almost a second after he answered, the man quickly asked. "Do you live here?"

"No." Matthew bluntly replied.

"Then get out of my way." The stranger then pushed him to the side; his elbow met with the wall. He had no where else to go. This man seemed able. The hope of freedom prompted him to follow.

"Hey! Where are you going?" Matthew said. The man paused for a second before turning around.

"It's none of your concern. Get back to doing whatever the youth of today do." He briskly started forward once more.

"Could I come with you?" He turned around once again, only this time with a huff.

"Will you stop talking if I let you?" Matthew nodded. "Well then, come on." He motioned Matthew with his hand and Matthew followed. His pace was fast but he kept up. The footsteps were what he focused on; he started to relax. He realized he lulled himself into a false sense of security when the man stopped, grabbed him and knocked him upside his head. Matthew fell into oblivion.

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Reviews are welcomed. :3


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: This chapter is also beta'd and rewritten. Thanks goes out to my beta Roxanna-chan, my reviewers, and the people who've favorited and followed.

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Chapter 2

His eyes opened to the sight of the vast blue sky. There were no clouds and the light made everything seem...bright. When his focus started to sharpen, he realized he was in chains. Chafing his ankles and wrists, the iron chains were hooked onto the wall of a house he didn't recognize.

He scanned the area with nervous eyes. There wasn't a soul in sight: just the horses tied to a post in front of the house. His captor was probably inside; it was most likely the man with the cloak.

It seemed as though everyone was betraying him these days. He gave his trust to one man and he abuses him and tries to sell him into slavery. He gives his trust to another and he puts him in chains. Was there any justice in this world? What did he do wrong? Was this punishment from a higher power? He couldn't help but feel as if all had betrayed him. That everyone was out to get him.

Everything was a lie. The fairy tales of happily ever after his mother used to tell him were all lies. There wasn't any truth to them. He realized now that such fluff to which they were filled didn't happen in real life. That nothing that happy would never happen to him. His innocence was torn away from him with that discovery.

The only way he could think of to relieve his feelings was to cry. To let out all of pent up rage, the guilt, his now cynical mindset. Everything was ever so gray in his world. He stopped crying when he started to feel numb.

"Get up!" A gruff voice yelled to his left. He glanced up at the familiar~looking face and took in his appearance. The man looked slightly irritated. The sun stood at his back, making his features distorted by the sun's known presence.

His captor looked a lot different then in his memory of him. He looked less intimidating and his beard was fuller. The man had on clothes that wouldn't be considered rich or poor. Considering there were no gray hairs and only a vivid red, he knew he was in his late twenties, early thirties.

With hands shaking slightly, Matthew turned towards the house and used it to hoist himself off the dirt patch that he was sitting in. His clothes of before were gone, and in their place was a scratchy tunic that looked as if they cut holes into the arms and threw it on him. Dirt clung to Matthew's body and he shifted uncomfortably when the tunic rubbed against his skin.

"Follow me." The man said bluntly. He followed his lead when the man unlocked his chains and they fell to the ground with clank. He walked as fast as his aching limbs allowed.

Just when the silence became unbearable, he stopped in front of a house that stood menacingly in the shadow of a tall tree. The house loomed above Matthew as if it was about to consume him.

"I sold you to a nobleman to be a cook. Hopefully you know how to." The words were partially a relief. He had expected the worst. For a second, he had thought he had been sold into sex slavery.

"Yes I know how to cook." Matthew said quietly. He knew his freedom was gone, but had he really had freedom in the first place?

He looked at the bright side and realized at least there are going to be other servants. He would try to float into the background and be nothing more than a phantom that only comes out to merely cook for his soon-to-be master.

"Get going." The man pushed him by the back of his head, forward. He spluttered as he lost his balance and tumbled to the ground. The man, cursing underneath his breath, took a hold of his hair and lifted him from off the ground. "Be careful! And hurry up; I don't have all day." He sneered at Matthew.

Matthew gained his footing and walked almost awkwardly towards the door, not knowing what else to do. He raised his fist, pausing momentarily, before knocking.

The sound of movement from inside the doorway was heard before the door opened to reveal a medium size man in a butler tailcoat. His disheveled black hair lay about to his chin, and his deadpan expression matched his voice. His captor gave the butler a letter before he welcomed Matthew into the house.

"Your room is this way, Mister...?"

"Matthew is just fine." The butler's lips twitched into a half smirk before his expression turned blank. Matthew glanced around the house; he was in awe. Eloquence was in every aspect of the design of the house. From the portraits that lined the walls, to the floor; everything was suave. The thing that struck him as odd were that all the window curtains were black and blocked out most of the light that happened to escape through. All of the houses he had ever been in were lit up, illuminating all of its attractive features. He was curious to why this house wasn't.

"There are a few rules to which you must abide by." The butler's voice drew him from his musings. "Number one: no seeing the master. Everything you cook must be brought to me. Rule two: stay in your wing of the house when not working. Last rule: no touching things that don't belong to you. Questions?" Matthew shook his head and the butler nodded and turned the other way. "Your room is the one down the hall to the left. You start cooking tomorrow morning. Bathroom is next to your room. Clothes will be provided." He said before he walked swiftly away out of sight. Matthew turned around and went to search for his room. The hallway was wide and pictures were hung in a row. The quality suffered the further to his room he went. Several doors were closed and Matthew was half tempted to open them. When he found his room, he opened the door.

It was a lot nicer than he expected a slave's room to be. A straw-filled bed sat in the middle of the room, next to it, sat an empty table. The dresser was relatively close to the window, which also had a black curtain. The room was bare, giving little evidence that anyone ever lived in it.

He suddenly felt tired. Trudging to the bed, he threw himself on and curled up on the blanket. He didn't even notice when sleep grabbed him.

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Reviews are welcomed. :3


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: Please don't kill me. I'm so sorry I haven't updated for a long time. I literally had to walk a total of like seven miles just to get this to you. So I really couldn't make this longer than a little over than a 1,000 words. I soon will be able to leave this place for one that has internet connection. Summer break is also coming. So...yeah. **

**Sorry this chapter just shows the setting, his daily routine and leads into next chapter. I tried to make it not boring so hopefully I succeeded.**

**Thanks goes out to my beta Roxanne-chan and everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed! You guys are the best! **

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Change.

It felt as if his world was evolving into an endless whirlpool of change. Even as normalcy settled into his stay at the manor he felt as if the change hadn't sunk in.

Betrayal again?

The more the events played out in his mind, the more he wanted to laugh. Maybe it would kill the buzzing that seemed to follow his pathetic existence. Being alone only intensified the empty ring that seemed to penetrate the silence. He was alone.

Completely, if not utterly, alone. The ringing just reminded him of the lack of human contact. Of everything really. His days are filled with crescendos of blah. If it had been several months ago he would have cried. Felt helpless- felt something, but all he could feel was a numb ache that wouldn't go away.

What need did he have for emotions, anyways? If his symphony was going to keep going in this direction, why not cut it short? Silence the beating snare drums that spoke of anguish and rip the strings out of the violins which spoke of tragedy.

A break of rapt attention. The butler turned his head as Matthew grunted, "...food." His vocabulary now consisted of one-syllable words.

"Thank you." That was it. Not a how are you or good morning; just a simple thank you.

Matthew handed the tray to the butler, whose name was never quite given, and nodded before heading in the opposite direction of the kitchens.

It was like this since the beginning. Silence and little idle chit-chat. Not that he minded. He was in no condition to socialize with people he didn't know. Talking more than necessary was an invitation to madness. The same madness that sold him into slavery; trust. It was the source of all his problems.

No, what's done is done and he couldn't wrack his brain with his same problems over and over again. He knew the empty ringing would continue if he didn't talk to anyone but that was nothing compared to heartbreak he had to go through.

On some subliminal level he still had a voice nagging for interaction, but he didn't trust that voice. He didn't trust any of his emotions. Not a single one.

He headed back to his room, feet dragging. If there was anything to do (anything at all) he would've avoided his room like the plague.

Bare walls and stretches of white give way to screeching from ringing. Emptiness personified with his personal space reflecting the arid being he dare call Matthew. It taunted him. White mocked him and considering he spent nearly all day and night in the placid hell-hole, he considered himself lucky. He wasn't going crazy yet-that was always a good sign.

He waited. Seconds gave way to minutes and then gave way to hours. Such little time passed and yet it all felt like perpetual stillness. The sun slowly moved away from his side of the house to the other and he knew it was time to cook another meal. This time it's dinner instead of lunch.

The walk to the kitchens was in slow motion. But then again, they always were. When he arrived, the ingredients, like they always were, laid out in an organized row- vegetables and then meats.

Pulling up his sleeves, Matthew grabbed the note that lay at the end of the trail of vegetables. It simply said roast with sautéed vegetables. Without a moment's thought, he grabbed a pan from one of the many cabinets and started to cook the meat on the firewood stove. The sizzling that radiated from the meat and the aroma made Matthew's mouth water. It had been since his mom died that he had any meat. It was always scraps that his dad didn't want- and considering the pig that was his father, he never got anything that wasn't fruits and vegetables. If even that.

The sound of footsteps click as they come towards him, and the sweet sound of normalcy dissipates.

"Matthew...I need you to do something for me." The butler said. A pause. This was the first time anyone in this house asked him for a favor.

"Yes?" Matthew continued to stir the cooking meat.

"I want you to make a few batches of sweets for the master." He was curious. Was this some special day? The master never asked for anything other than breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and he'd been here for three months now.

"Why?" Matthew said.

"Because he said so!" The butler snapped.

"..." the sound of cooking meat fills the air.

"Well, if you really must know, it's the anniversary of his accident." Accident? Why was he feeling so curious all of a sudden? Shit. Curiosity could be considered an emotion. He thought for second.

The solution was brought to the forefront of his mind. He would just give up all thoughts pertaining to his master.

Matthew nodded his head absentmindedly and the butler paused as if he expected more questions. No, he refused to even sate his emotions.

"Ingredients are in the cupboard." He didn't ask which one, but continued making dinner. He could always just look through them later.

Him making dinner continued until the dishes were on the tray and ready to serve. Meticulously decorating the piece of fine china, Matthew made sure the tray was presentable. Grabbing the platter, he carefully made his way to the usual meeting place. Like always, the butler was there to greet him.

"Great, now start on those sweets." The butler said. Without another word, the butler turned around and hastily walked towards the master's wing and Matthew did the same towards the kitchen.

At least it wasn't going in slow motion. It felt strange considering not even two hours ago time was going so slow that a day felt like a week. Maybe he should cook sweets more often. Or cook more than three times a day. At least then he could distract himself from all the thoughts that plagued his mind day in and out.

'Biscuits and...cakes?' He wasn't all that sure what kind of sweets he wanted him to make. Did he want chocolate or regular sugar flavoring? Cupcakes or lemon squares? He didn't know, but he was sure he'd use up the supplies that were supposedly in the cupboard. If he could find the cupboard.

Several dozen lined the kitchens exterior, making the process a lot more tedious then it needed to be.

Matthew searched the bottom ones first. When he realized the ingredients weren't there, he reached for the highest one. Barely even reaching the bottom, he climbed onto the counter-top and opened the cabinet's doors. Seeing the flour he grabbed onto the bag with zeal before slipping. The flour flew from his hands, landing before he fell on his ass.

Matthew emitted a feral growl before slapping the ground in frustration. White powder fluttered up before slowly coming down in a cloud.

Great, now he had to clean all of this up and make the sweets. Matthew threw his head back before pushing his sleeves up and getting to work.

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**Reviews fuel my muse. ^_^ **

**Next chapter: The meeting between Francis and Matthew. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note:** This was going to be longer, but I had to cut a lot of it out. Sorry if you were expecting a longer chapter but I couldn't do it. I tried but it didn't go as planned.

Thanks goes out to my beta Roxanne-chan, and everyone who reviewed, followed, and favorited.

I'm not really happy with this chapter. I've deleted, rewritten parts of it, and yet something is still wrong. Don't know what though.

I hope everyone likes it. I did spend four four and a half hours just revising it. I hope it was worth all the time and effort.

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**Chapter 4**

Matthew didn't know why, but time had made his numbness almost obsolete. It all started with it playing over and over in his mind. The hallway that was wrapped in a blanket of darkness, the bare walls that lead up to that corridor, and the blunt instruction to not go down. It all made the scorch of his curiosity burn at the forefront of his mind.

Matthew knew his master was located somewhere down that hallway and yet when he gained enough courage and the excuse, the word 'hello' burned in the back of his throat.

Was the master deformed? Too ugly to show his face to anyone but the butler? It made his hand itch to open the door. The times he actually tried to go, the butler and his own cowardice held him back from making that final step. To actually meeting his master.

"Matthew?" A muffled voice jolted him. He quickly turned on his bed to face a dark shadow standing in the door. His pulse sped up and for a second, he thought maybe it was someone else.

"Yes?" Matthew replied.

"The master's craving apple pie again." Oh, it was just the butler. Who'd he expect it was anyways? The nobleman himself? Matthew scoffed at his thoughts.

He sighed before standing up. "Right away."

The butler left and Matthew made his way to the kitchen.

He did his normal routine. Ingredients. Mix. Bake. Then put it on a platter. It was a mindless process, that Matthew found comfort in. He grabbed onto the tray before walking to the usual meet up spot. But he wasn't there.

"Sir?" He called out. Silence. Matthew waited a bit, before deciding he could deliver the food. He swallowed when his throat suddenly became dry. Matthew tightened his hold on the tray before making the trek through the hallway.

The hallway was drenched in darkness. He walked a little slower than he normally would; he feared he would trip and make an fool out of himself.

"Sir? Hello?" Matthew said while tapping softly on the door. He knocked louder this time and still no response. Matthew pushed hard on door and it creaked open. The wood felt harsh underneath his palm. He wondered why the master bedroom would have such a shoddy door.

"Master?" He tried one more time. Silence once again was his answer. "I've got your apple pie-"

The door opened all the way to reveal the disorderly room. The curtains were black and holes littered them, creating small rivulets of sunlight here and there. An empty birdcage lay in disarray in the middle of the room, as if someone got angry and threw it. It lay sideways with the door open. Cobwebs were weaved in and out of the bars. He looked around at the other parts of the room. A scratched-up wood table was kicked over and missing two of its legs. Books were contorted with pages scattered everywhere, and other furniture was in the same disheveled appearance. It looked as if a tornado had wreaked havoc.

Matthew was so engrossed in the room he didn't notice another door across from him, open. Someone cleared their throat before Matthew blushed and looked up.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean-"

"Who are you?" Said a raspy voice with a slight Empire accent. He's only ever met one other person from the United Empire of Scythia(1).

The man, he presumed was his master, was hidden in the shadow of the room. All Matthew could tell was he was tall; his silhouette stood hunched over, almost touching the top of the doorway.

"Um, I'm Matthew." The man stood silent. Matthew scolded himself. Of course he wouldn't know his name. They were just servant and master. "I'm your cook."

"Where's Andres?" It took him a second to realize he was talking about the butler.

"I couldn't find him so I just-"

The master interrupted him before he was able to finish. "Why didn't you go find him?"

Matthew sputtered. "W-well I just th-thought-"

"It doesn't matter what you thought. I gave you few rules and you disobeyed them." Matthew furrowed his eyebrows before berating himself. He should've stayed and looked for the butler.

"I'm sorry. I'll make you another pie as an apology. I made your apple pie. Here." Matthew put the platter out whilst his eyes trailed to the floor. His face, for some reason, was hot.

"Thank you." After a terse pause, he took the platter. His hand brushed the other's smooth one. Matthew turned to walk away before the other sighed. "I'm sorry for being so rude. I was taken by surprise."

Matthew was shocked. A nobleman saying sorry to a lowly slave? It was almost unheard of.

"It's alright; I understand. I broke the rules and you gave me what you thought was just punishment. It was merciful. Thank you." His voice unintentionally sounded callous; he winced.

"I hate when people sound so formal. Please don't be." Matthew was once again stunned.

"Yes sir. I mean yes...?"

"Francis. My name is Francis."

"Okay, Francis." Matthew wondered if it would be considered rude if he didn't shake his hand. Deciding it would be, he stepped forward to shake Francis' hand.

"If you didn't get it before, my name is Matthew." Francis paused before awkwardly shaking his hand. His grip was lax and his hand was warm and soft. Matthew didn't want to pull his hand until the other was done. And neither did Francis.

"I'm sorry-"

"Umm I-"

They both said at the same time. Pulling their hands apart.

"I didn't know how long Englishmen usually shake hands." Francis rubbed the back of his head.

The other probably hid himself on purpose. The room was pitch-black and he moved further in when Matthew stepped closer. He wondered if his deformity theory was correct.

"..." He didn't know what to say. Matthew felt it was dangerous to continue the conversation. His old fears bubbling to the surface; he stuck with saying nothing.

"Okay then. I'll just leave; you can get back to doing whatever you do."

"Right. Although, all I do is cook." Matthew muttered.

"Really? Doesn't that get boring?"

"It is very dull." Matthew confirmed.

The other man seemed as if he was in a deep train of thought before he broke the silence. "Do you know how to read?"

Matthew nodded. "Yes, not all that good at it though." And it was true. He knew the basics but other than that, if he read out loud it would sound clunky and clumsy.

"You can use the library." Francis said before adding. "If you want."

"Thank you master." Matthew paused before correcting himself. "I mean Francis."

"It's the second door to left. Just leave everything how it was when you leave." Francis gave him a small wave before leaning onto something (was that a cane?) and hobbling back into his room. The door gave a soft click before Matthew exhaled. Even if Francis was nice, having a long conversation like that was nerve racking. He also wondered why he was so kind. Weren't normal people rude to slaves? It just didn't make any sense. He kind of understood being friendly-some people were just nice like that- but to offer usage of Francis' personal library?

It was strange, but he decided he didn't care.

For the first time in a while, things weren't looking so drab. Matthew gave a small smile as he went to the library to pick out a book.

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(1) Was an actual empire. This Scythia isn't really set in this universe though (not historical fiction). Haven't really watched a lot of Hetalia, so I don't if they covered it. There's probably confusion on the setting and how everything came to be, but know everything will be explained eventually.

Reviews are motivation and I'm going to need a lot of that. -_- Writer's block is the worst.


	5. Chapter 5

**Beta:** Roxanne-chan

**Chapter** **5**

Andres held in a sneer as he watched Francis hobble, in the dark, to his tattered bed. The ruse was getting old and Francis was getting more frustrating by the day.

"Andres?"

"I am here." Andres kept his voice soft.

"I want _her_ favorite food again." Really? Again?! When was Francis going to get over her. It's been 2 years since she died and he still was moping around as if her death had been a month ago. The man-child needed to grow up.

"As you wish."

Andres turned around before Francis added, "Could you pick me out a book, too?" Andres rolled his eyes, annoyed. If he didn't want the damn brat to see him why did he invite Matthew to use his library in the first place? It was just another thing to add on the list of why he found the man infuriating.

"Anything specific?" Let him guess; a romantic tragedy.

"Romantic tragedy please." He found himself once again rolling his eyes; an action he hadn't had the urge to do with as much frequency before meeting Francis.

"I'll return soon."

And he did. He was known to be fast and efficient; one of the few things that made him the best at what he did.

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Matthew loved the library. It was massive: books of all colors lined the walls, towering above him, and the feeling of comfort made it his favorite place.

He's learned so many things while browsing books: the history of Scythia and England, that there is a whole mainland that expanded beyond Scythia, and there were such a thing as elephants. It made his stomach tingle with something akin to anxious excitement. To think that there was something beyond his country and the country next to it, was wonderful. Spectacular in fact. Matthew longed to see all of the wonders the world had to offer.

The most odd thing in the library was an abundance of romance novels. The library had one of the main bookcases filled to the brim with nothing but romance. It was weird considering there weren't any girls in the manor. Romance was more of a girl's kind of genre.

"Matthew, would you mind making a chocolate pie?" Andres paused before adding. "Oh and add the usual cinnamon." Matthew looked up at him leaning on the side of a small bookcase.

"Right away." Andres gave him a small smile before taking his leave. He was pleasantly nice. It was always a wonderful feeling to meet someone so put together like Andres was. He was an amazing butler.

Matthew closed his book and set it on a table beside him. Making his way to the kitchen, his eyes roved around the hallway, mapping the place out again. He didn't know why he did it, but Matthew liked the feeling of memorizing a place down to its cracks and crevices. It captivated him.

When he took in the kitchen, something seemed off. Usually it was spotless but today, for some unknown reason, it was sullied by patches of loose spices. What reason did someone have to use spices other than him?

Shaking his head at the oddity of the situation, Matthew started to make the chocolate pie. When he was done, he searched the cupboard for cinnamon and couldn't find it. He checked the top cupboard before moving to the bottom ones. Where was the cinnamon? Why would someone take it? It baffled him.

"The pie?" Andres said from behind him. Matthew jumped and hit his head on top of the cupboard.

"Ow! Oh sorry, it's right here." Matthew said whilst rubbing the top of his head, the pain still lingering. "I can't find the cinnamon."

"Really?" Surprise laced his words and yet his eyes didn't match. Andres turned around before Matthew could ascertain if it was just a figment of his imagination. It was just his imagination, right? Andres really was surprised, right? Matthew couldn't shake the feeling that he did it. He was, not including Francis, the only other person in the manor.

"I don't know. Does anyone else have access to the manor?"

"Not really."

A terse pause before Matthew spoke up.

"I hope it's okay without cinnamon."

Andres turned around. "Of course it'll be alright." Wheels were turning in Andres' mind; that much he could tell. His eyes were glazed over until his gaze sharpened.

"Would you kindly do me a favor?" Andres asked.

"What is it?"

"Could you locate the cinnamon for me?"

"I'll look." Matthew said. Where was he going to start?

"Look outside of the manor too." Outside the manor too? That got him thinking, what was outside the manor? He only ever briefly seen the front yard. He wondered what the rest of the yard looked like.

Andres waved his hand in response to his silence before disappearing from his line of sight. Matthew sighed before heading towards an exit. This was the first time he had the chance to explore the outside. He wondered if the yard was big. He wouldn't be surprised if it was. The master seemed like a wealthy man, with his rare food and impressive books. He was astounded that someone so wealthy had only a a slave and a butler. The house seemed marvellously clean and it was truly a daunting task considering how large the manor was.

When Matthew opened the door, the sight of garden made his breath hitch. He was dumbfounded by the sheer size of it. It extended until a forest cut it off. Hues of pink, purple, red, and green swirled to make patterns with flowers that lead to a middle fountain.

"Beautiful." He whispered. The garden looked well taken care of. Did the butler take care of the garden as well? Moments passed before the crack of thunder snapped him from his trance.

'I better get going before it storms.' Matthew sprang into action. He decided to check the other side of the house. Tiny drops drizzled from sky and he put his face upward. It had been a long time since he felt the rain on his face, the sun too for that matter; he missed it.

As the rain got heavier, he hastened his steps. Seeing a stable in the distance, he made his way to it. Maybe there was a stable boy? Even if he hadn't heard anything about him, the stable boy could've been responsible. Even if an insisting voice in the back of his mind told him that stable boy would not steal the cinnamon, he couldn't rule out any possibility.

The stable was located on the other side of the house, close to the only trail into the forest. By the time he got there, the rain was pouring so heavily that everything looked blurry and distorted.

"Hello?" He called out. Silence. The sound of raindrops was the only sound he heard. He decided to call again. No one answered. Matthew decided to look around. Maybe he wasn't there?

He stepped through the other side door, where all of the other horses were located. It was unnaturally dark inside; he could barely see the horses but he could hear and smell them. Feeling his way further into the room, he nearly tripped on a table. Steadying himself, he felt something small go back and forth in his hair. Curiously, he grabbed a hold of what he thought was string_._ Feeling further up, he realized the "string" was attached to a boot. Matthew lowered his arm in uncertainty, not wanting to believe what was hung above him. It was just his boots hanging up to dry right?

Right?

Lightening flashed and the stable was illuminated. Matthew's eyes grew wide and his mouth opened as if to scream. His throat constricted, the image of the dead body burned into his retinas.

* * *

**Author's note:** Hope everyone liked it. My pacing sucks ass, sorry about that. I have to admit, I've deleted so many parts of this chapter. I do that a lot for some reason. Sorry if this chapter sucked. I tried I really did. No Francis and Matthew interaction but it will be soon. Next chapter in fact. Thanks for reading, reviewing, etc.

Please review. It really does help me write faster.


	6. Chapter 6

**Beta:** Alys Blanchefleur

**Chapter 6**

Rain pounded heavily on the stable roof. Black littered his vision, in exception to spots of angry gray outside the few small windows. He could feel his face drain of color, the brief flash of the corpse filling his thoughts. He stood still, trying to calm his rising panic.

Don't think about it.

Don't think...

A dead body. Eyes glazed over and wide, neck hanging from a noose, swaying back and forward. The memory of his best friend and mother's carcasses assaulted his mind. Matthew thought he had forgotten the image. In the past, he had made an effort to forget. He did, in a sense, but the images came back like vomit.

He needed to leave; needed to tell someone about this. Matthew dashed to the manor, the downpour completely soaking his clothes. He made his way to the kitchen, tracking in mud, but he couldn't be concerned with it. He strode through the manor trying to find Andres. He called his name multiple times before he answered.

"What?" Andres said, his tone sounded irritated. He did not look nor sound happy. His brow was crinkled as of he had a headache.

"T-the stable boy is dead." Matthew said. The once annoyed look turned into one of surprise, as Andres rose an eyebrow questionably.

"The stable boy is...dead?"

"He's dead." Matthew repeated. His eyes were wide as he met Andres' gaze.

"How'd he die?"

"Never mind that, what about-"

"Don't worry about it." Andres said, tersely. He gave little indication that he was going to leave. Matthew stood in his wake, confused, not knowing what else to do.

* * *

Time blurred with no distinction until the middle of summer turned into the cusp.

Matthew tried not to dwelling on his past life. Work and reading helped drown out his thoughts, until the two were the only things on his mind. With the stable boy dead, he had taken up his duties. Apparently the stable boy wasn't just a stable boy but a gardener as well.

The sun beat starkly on his neck making him sweat feverishly. He weeded diligently, wiping the sweat off his brow. Matthew was close to finishing his day's work but pulled out a few more weeds for good measure.

He wiped his sullied, calloused palms on his trousers before going inside. Reading sounded good and he needed some rejuvenation before he made dinner. Dinner wouldn't need to be made for a couple more hours though. He had plenty of time.

Matthew ambled to his room. When he arrived, he folded up his work clothes and changed into his other work clothes. They were less dirty and made from finer material.

Matthew headed to the library after that. He opened the door and did a double take. Francis?! Matthew's eyes grew wide. Francis sat leisurely at Matthew's usual seat, eyes narrowed in concentration at some book. He had scars traveling down the length of his face and disappearing into his shirt. Matthew now understood why he hid his face. He was in no way a vain man, but someone who was would despise the look. Matthew thought the scars looked intriguing. They looked as scars did when one got into a skirmish. Did the Master go to war? Or were the scars from something else entirely? Matthew drew a blank as his gaze traveled from his scars to the rest of his face. Francis had long blond hair tied at the nape of his neck. He couldn't see the color of his eyes.

Should he just grab a book and sit down? Matthew didn't know. Would the Master yell at him? Anxiousness fluttered in his stomach. He didn't want to make the man mad. He did let him use the library despite him being a slave. He didn't want to jeopardize his library privileges.

Francis wasn't like other people though. He wouldn't do that to Matthew. Right? After much pondering, he decided to get a book and sit down.

Francis jumped when Matthew walked past him. Matthew looked at the Master, who by now, looked as if he'd seen a ghost. His once rosy color turned ashen, his mouth gaping.

"Sorry, am I not supposed to be here?" Matthew said slowly. Maybe he should've just left while he could? Francis looked at him in horror. No doubt because of the scars carved into his skin.

"I thought you were tending to the gardens." Francis said after getting over the shock of seeing him. Matthew had to guess that he realized his mouth was hanging open, because he closed it abruptly. Matthew was briefly amused.

"Weeding the garden doesn't take all day."

Francis straightened his posture. "It used to take the stable boy most of the afternoon."

"Oh." Matthew paused. "I could just leave if you want me to."

Francis shook his head. "No, I'll just leave." He got up to leave but Matthew beat him to it. Matthew started going in the direction of the door, but before he could get out of there fast enough, Francis sighed and spoke up.

"You can stay here." Matthew's steps faltered before he slowly turned around.

"Are you alright with that Master?"

"I told you to call me Francis, and it's alright." Francis said. He whispered something else underneath his breath but Matthew couldn't hear it.

Matthew walked to the chair farther away from Francis. He picked out some random book off the shelf and sat down.

Francis was a mystery to Matthew. Why was he so nice? Why did the supposed nobleman act... not like a nobleman? Where did the man get his scars? Questions churned in his mind as he looked up. Their eyes clashed.

"How'd you get your scars?" Matthew blurted out. He quickly berated himself. The man was self-conscious. He wouldn't have tried to hide his scars if he wasn't.

"Hardly a topic I'd like to discuss. Let's not." His voice was icy, as if he was reining in his emotions and refused to let them be seen. He'd recognize that tone of voice anywhere; not long ago he had it.

Matthew gave a faint humming sound in response. He understood the sentiment. If someone would've asked about his past life six months ago or even now, he would say the same thing. Maybe even stark in comparison to his polite rejection.

"What are you reading?" Matthew tried to change the topic.

"Nothing." Francis said brusquely. Matthew looked at him oddly. Was Francis embarrassed about what he was reading?

"Okay." He stayed quiet after that. He tried concentrating on his book, but his mind wouldn't have any of it. He glanced up at Francis at sporadic moments, his curiosity burning. He buried it deep... or at least tried to. The book he randomly picked out was about boats; not able to keep his interest for very long.

Knowing he was unable to withhold from commenting for long, he closed his book, set it down, and made his way to the double doors. He couldn't be any more obtrusive today. He didn't want to annoy the Master. That was the last thing he wanted.

He left quietly and went to make dinner. Andres wasn't there again to greet him. After shrugging his shoulders, he went to deliver the food.

It was awkward to say the least. The only words spoken were "thank you" or "you're welcome." They stood staring at each other not knowing what to say or what to do. Matthew left after a long pause. He went to bed that night still thinking of the short conversation with Francis. Wondering if they were to share more in depth conversations in the future.

Would they become friends? He sure hoped so. Even though in the back of his mind a voice whispered that it wasn't a smart idea. Matthew ignored that voice. It had been so long since he had a friend.

* * *

**Author's note: **Why can't everyday be all about fanfiction instead of real life? *Sigh* Sorry I've been really horrible on updating but real life, ya know? I'm pretty sure everything will be better in the future (hopefully) and I'll start updating faster.

My muse has been really sadistic lately. I go to write the next chapter and it ends up being five chapters in. -_- I've got two chapters written. *Grumbles* But they're all future chapters.

Thanks you all for all of the reviews, favorites, and follows! I do a weird happy dance when I get the email. Anyways, I'm curious to what everyone thinks is going to happen. I've given plenty of hints throughout the story, some subtle and a couple not so much. Reviews are welcome. :3


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